Another showboating adolescent male who sucks at running infects a girls' cross-country team, this time in Maine
It's time to use public pressure, including open heckling, to put the brakes on talentless whiners and rule-evaders and the consequences of their histrionics
In many ways, the media have been inviting people for over three years—practically begging them—to recognize that the various tenets of Wokism (purposeful social vandalism disguised as social-justice activism) are blatantly false.
Most adult human Americans, for example, still have the basic mental capacity to understand that males can never be females and conversely. At least I want to think this is the case, as hopelessly sludgy as the average American’s cognition may be, and still kind of do think so. If true, this implies that all claims to the contrary—whether they pertain to the surgically and chemically altered to those who whimsically declare that they have magically “transitioned” in a flash of narcissism-fueled sorcery—are coming from people who are some combination of dishonest and moronic.
This rule has no exceptions, and it never will, just as “2 + 2 = 5” will always originate from raw imbeciles or low-aiming pranksters. If you actively support the participation of males disguised as females in female-only sports, then you are either stupid or malevolent, with only one of these conditions even minimally subject to modification. And these categories of damaged human omit the many people who know better—mostly parents and coaches, btu also website and newsletter operators—but keep silent when they shouldn’t, making them not fools or assholes but gelatinous.
The silver lining in the flagrancy of this and similar forced modifications to norms and perceptions—with others including “The fatter the body, the healthier and hotter it is,” “Experimental, demonstrably pathogenic shots protect you and others,” “Only white people can be racist—which all of them are,” and “Everyone alive is an antisemite, except for Nazis themselves”—is that they make it impossible to deny that we* are being lied to without restraint on a host of fronts. It makes the media’s illegitimacy undeniable. If the media are lying about basic sex differences and their implications, then they would lie about literally anything.
However, this requires possessing some combination of basic thinking prowess and the inherent compulsion to publicly challenge or undermine clearly dubious or false claims. Owing to a combination of psychosocial and genetic factors, far fewer people possess the second trait than the first. Most skeptics have kids or someone besides themselves to support, and would rather keep silent and retain their standing—in a world rapidly not worth retaining standing in anyway—than express anything that might cost them their jobs or merely invite a flood of vituperative comments from a widely dispersed online army of rainbow-stained Humpty Dumpty look-alikes and unmitigated, stone-dumb retards.
I get that; I pissed off someone online once, and it was the worst thing that ever happened. I was scolded, and I shut right up, because my first instinct when someone who’s obviously wrong tries to intimidate me is to buckle like a pants-pissing pussy.
Another teenage miscreant-boy has decided to ruin a girls’ cross-country team, this time in Maine.
From the very outset, the average person’s mind resisted the whole “boys can be girls” thesis, for good reason. But most people, I’ve discovered since “the pandemic” struck, simply do not have the ability to think for themselves when the pressure is sufficiently high. I’ve watched people who considered themselves staunch skeptics and analytical thinkers before 2020—and surely still do—transformed into people who wear cloth masks while driving and nod along to spectacles like Will (“Lia”) Thomas invading NCAA women’s swimming, apparently thinking “Yup, I just never knew both gender and sex were social constructs.” BZZZ! Always go with your first guess, bud.
If you didn’t understand one month into “the pandemic” that Anthony Fauci is not only unreliable but a lifelong sociopath, you’re probably a melonhead and unconsciously a significant liability in various aspects of your personal or professional life. Unless you’re also running a grift, in which case being a CDC-believing, Dylan Mulvaney-worshiping, 1619 Project-embracing member of the Church of the Unreformed Drool-Bibbers just might make you wealthy and brain-damaged nowadays.
As a pertinent example, David and Megan Roche are either clinically mentally challenged adults—based on their public statements, both of them almost have to have paid for their graduate and perhaps their undergraduate degrees—or striving to appear as such based on their public utterances, and this is supported by the fact that I have yet to see one S.W.A.P. coaching client who shows any evidence of a properly functioning forebrain. Not one. It’s just a roster of proudly ignorant, self-overrating, half-literate shitlibs. This unity of personas is almost as impressive as it is diagnostic.
I could go on for paragraphs listing the spineless and brainless chumlords who work for Runner’s World, the Outside, Inc. suite of e-pubs, Strava, and every single gear and shoe company in the industry. All garbage, all broken, all trash. But Tracksmith recently leaped to the front of the line of wholly disposable companies by offering a product for marginally accomplished longjoggers and then caving in the face of a barrage of insults from shambling wide-bodies and people who can’t run with any proficiency at all.
It’s worth noting that mediocre high-school boys who decide to infect girls’ teams are motivated by the same basic thing: I suck, others are better, and my inability to see independent value in myself outside this stupid sport means I must cheat this reality somehow. Boys calling themselves girls and “nonbinary” people evade this directly by placing themselves in erroneous categories, while the hopelessly slow people who can’t even qualify for the Boston Marathon seek to derogate excellence instead.
Whatever factors made them this way, these people are miserable cunts. Every keening, addled, broken one of them.
One of the marvelous things about running is that it feels good even to those who are objectively slow, provided they work at it. A well-trained person incapable of breaking 30:00 for 5K because their bodies are just too biomechanically inapt for efficient running—pigeon-toes, a huge ass, excessive height, massive titties, knees that knock together, hyper-supination, pronounced static and dynamic asymmetries, or basically just having the musculoskeletal characteristics of a non-athlete.
One of my feet points outward considerably more than the other when I run. I am convinced that any healthy male under 40 who considers himself competitive but can’t break three hours in the marathon is in the wrong sport. This is barely moving in a straight line. But how much I sucked at running, and how much those slower than me therefore also suck, even worse, as a stark and inescapable consequence, is yet another long-winded digression for another time and place.
I would submit that the opinions of people who willingly participate in timed running, yet balk at the idea that people appear higher than them in consequently generated lists (often called “race results”), can be safely discarded. If people are healthy enough to enjoy running and complete marathons, and have the time in their days to spend hours on Instagram looking for explicit ways to draw cheese-graters across their own sensitivities and sources of shame, then they are not suffering. They should be actively discouraged from entering races if what happens at races bothers them.
I hope that people go to the upcoming Maine State Cross-Country Championships and relentlessly boo this dingbat kid. He’s plenty old enough to know what he’s doing—if he decided to steal street signs or spray paint VOTE FOR PEDRO’S MOM on the side of his school, there would be consequences, or would have been before his fake switcheroo. And it’s become clear after years of this nonsense that parents and coaches are just going to stand by twiddling their assholes while this goes on all over the country indefinitely. But if you balk at this idea, well, there’s at least one parent and one coach associated with every one of these athletic arsonists, and it might be a good idea to get in their faces, too, about how selfish they are. Expect a lot of rapid mouth-breathing and hand-flapping in response, should you even receive one.
The reason these forthright cultural insanities are happening is because some very strange, very rich people want it to happen. There is obviously nothing organic about installing a bunch of dudes in female spaces. No one wants this except for self-loathing perverts or people with too many stretches of DNA that have been cycled repeatedly between siblings, children and parents—often with long baths in moonshine, Dom Perignon, and every adult beverage between—to allow for proper neurological development. So, this kind of deviance is being enforced by a comparatively small number of evil, determined, and paid-off people—the usual fat-assed, dyspeptic, and mealy-minded school-board members, churlish and androgynous attorneys, and bent, often intoxicated judges.
This is why a lawsuit filed a few years ago by some girls in Connecticut was thrown out; at the center of the suit were two black boys pretending to be girls, and it’s now more clear why the girls didn’t win as I expected them to. The system is rigged. It’s nothing for a billionaire to drop the less than $1 million typically required to get some malign Wokish freak with a tiny tattoo of Che Guevara on the head of her dick elected or assigned to important policy-directing posts.
I also have an idea for all of these people who participate in timed running events but think hard work alone should be rewarded. Tracksmith can show its commitment to serving pussies and whiners by inaugurating and producing the ITryHardToo Marathon. Like a McKirdy Micro Marathon for people at the other end of the performance spectrum, with "micro" short for “micro-aggressed" in this case
Entrants need only submit evidence of covering an average of 10 miles a day for three months at 70% max HR or greater. No performances required, and pace matters not. In fact, to keep genuine runners safely at bay, anyone trying to enter and found to have achieved a BQ time or faster at any time in their lives will be banned from the event for life and probably doxed for the next five years by a determined, spooge-caked coterie of blue-haired shemales.
After that, all of the people with chronic fatigue (but 178,234 tweets) will piss and moan that they would train hard if they could only feel like it, but that this is not an option for them, meaning that the ITryHardToo Marathon crowd is looking down their warty noses at them. And it will never, ever end until running is somehow purged of intractable bags of bitching—who, as the ITryHardToo Marathon entry numbers would reveal, do not in fact train very hard as a rule, and are typically immune to the very concept.
These pussies and losers and those who cater to their gibbering and scatterbrained complaints have had three years to get their anti-groove on, rake in grifting dollars, and drag their pimply scrotes around women’s and girls’ locker rooms. It’s time to tell them where they can shove it, even if they won’t have the holes they claim to have necessary for complying with such demands.